


Whitefish

by thebesttempinchiswick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season 9, UA, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:19:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebesttempinchiswick/pseuds/thebesttempinchiswick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been five months since the angels fell. Five months since they parted, since Kevin died, since Gadreel took Sam's body and disappeared. </p><p>Somewhere in Montana, they have to come to terms with that. With everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whitefish

**Author's Note:**

> Rufus's cabin is in a town called Whitefish, hence the name.

He had been looking for months, for no one in particular.

Anyone, really, who could help.

Cas hadn't answered any of his prayers, but hey, what else was new? And this time, he knew better than to pray to just anyone.

No, this time he was really alone.

Crowley was always there, back in the dungeon, but he wasn't gonna stoop that low. Not yet, anyway. If he didn't find Sam soon, he might.

He'd been everywhere. Put out an APB, told Garth to spread the word. Anyone who knew anything was someone he'd listen to.

He was getting exhausted. He was in Montana, in the backwoods near one of Rufus's old cabins. He might as well stop there for the night.

He checked the map. It was about an hour's drive from where he was. Which wasn't bad, but he had to get moving. The sun was setting, and he didn't want to be lost in the woods.

>

He was really craving fried chicken.

But that would mean putting on a jacket. And getting in the car. And driving into town, a half hour drive, and then another fifteen minutes to the KFC. And going into the store, facing all the strange looks, the mothers trying to keep their kids from staring. The polite banter from the lady behind the counter. He would have to see the pity in her eyes.

He could always take the drive through route, but that presented it's own set of challenges. Reaching through the window, willing the skin of his arms to stretch when he knew it wouldn't.

It was his fault, anyway. His stupid, rash decision.   
Get it together, Cas, he thought to himself. No use crying over 4-and-a-half month old spilled milk.

He pushed thoughts of mistakes (and of chicken) to the back of his mind and went to the pantry. His grocery list had been growing exponentially as of late, and so he wasn't shocked to discover that he had almost no food. He sighed in tired irritation.

He had some penne noodles, and some vodka sauce. Good enough.

He turned on the news and put on a pot of water. The sun was going down. He watched it set from his kitchen window, and let his mind wander a little.

He thought of how special they had used to be, all the people on earth. They all watched this sun, every single one. Even if they couldn't see it, they could still experience it. They were gifted like that. They could feel it on their skin, they could hear about it, they could smell it on the grass and the water. They could still get sunburned.

That word had little meaning for him now, the thought that such a minor thing could be called a "burn". He had felt the sun's power, raw and hungry, many times as an angel. It quite resembled grace in that it was pure energy. And in the fact that, under the right circumstances, it was extremely volatile.

He heard the water boiling behind him, and quickly buried himself in preparing the pasta.

>

When he pulled up to the cabin, the lights were on inside. What the fuck? He thought. He readied his gun as he mentally rattled off a list of people who could be there. Garth? He was in Massachusetts. He hadn't known all of Rufus's friends, maybe one of them?

He went up to the door and knocked, pointing his gun at the ground, ready to pull it up.

The face that answered the door was familiar, if entirely unexpected.

"Cas? What the hell?"

>

He was finished with his pasta and putting the bowl away when he heard a car pull up. Who else knows about this place?

Dean did, among some of Rufus's friends. Sam did, and that scared him a little. When he was last an angel, he was too weak to fully process Dean's prayers, but he heard enough to know that something had happened to Sam. At first they were worried, then desperate, then angry. Unbelievably angry.

He shut those thoughts down. He knew that if he let himself go back there, it would be that much worse tonight. It wasn't worth it, not now.

He grabbed his gun and answered the door.

Speak of the devil.

"Why are you here?" He asked.

"Why am I here? Why are you here!? I thought you had angel stuff going on. He could hear the bitterness in Dean's voice. It was a shadow, but it was there. "I did." He replied curtly, keeping the door just open enough to let his face show through.

"And now?" Prompted Dean.

"I don't."

That seemed to irk him, if only a little. "You gonna let me in?" he asked gruffly.

He considered. "Only if you put the gun away." He said, placing his own back on the counter. He watched Dean click on the safety and tuck his gun into his belt.

"So what brings you here?" He asked, tonelessly.

He faltered for a second before answering. "I was around. Thought I'd sleep here rather than a motel, but it looks like you beat me here."

Should he offer him a bed for the night? Would he take it? "You're welcome to stay here. I've been staying in the back room, but there's still the other one."

"You sure?" Dean asked politely. It was one of those things that was mandatory, like telling a friend's mom she didn't have to pay, when you knew she would anyway.

"Of course I'm sure." He said with a smile that didn't quite touch his eyes. "Would you like some pasta, before I put everything away?"

>

"No thanks, I'm okay." He answered carefully. This whole scene was freaking him out. Cas was so calm, so settled here. When had he gotten here? Since when did angels eat pasta? What was going on? A thousand questions burned in his mind.

Better get it over with, He thought.

"Cas, man, I gotta ask, what are you doing here?"

He saw the other man freeze, and instinctively moved back an inch. "I am no longer a hunter, Dean. And no longer an angel. I needed somewhere to go, and I figured this was as out of the way as I could get."

It sounded fake, rehearsed, and Dean could tell. It took one to know one. "Yeah, and when exactly did you decide that?"

Cas's shoulders locked. "I didn't decide anything. Incidentally, I almost never decide anything."

Now he had done it. Dean was interested, and frankly a little pissed. He could've really used some help, and dammit if he hadn't wanted to hear from Cas. He had really needed him there. "What the fuck does that mean?" He asked as calmly as possible.

He didn't flinch when the dish Cas had been holding shattered against the wall. "You tell me, Dean!"

"Tell you what, huh!?" He snarled back. "You're the one who up and disappeared, right after telling me Ezekiel was fucking dead! So what, huh? Did you just turn off angel radio, or did you hear me asking you for help and think 'hmm, I could go help, but instead I think I'll hold up at Rufus's and make pasta.' Huh!?"

"Why would you even think I could help?! Last I remember, you'd all but given up on me."

"That's not true and you know it."

Cas couldn't stop the words tumbling out of his mouth. "Oh! Oh, but it is! You've told me on multiple occasions that I'm useless. You've told me that you don't trust me, that I'm a danger to you, or do those things only apply when I don't need to save Sam's ass?"

It was like losing control of a car. They were moving uncontrollably and fast, and it was scary as hell. His words cut into Dean and he quickly tried to gain some stability. "I always looked out for you, for both of you! I tried so damn hard, so excuse me if I was a dick sometimes, alright!? I always came back for you."

"Why the fuck would you come back for me? Why the fuck would you pray to me, why would you think I can do anything at all? I never can! I try just as hard as you do, but somehow I always manage to fuck things up. I'm broken, I always have been!"

Dean stopped short. "Who the fuck told you that?"

Cas kept yelling, words tearing out of his mouth like animals, screaming to be free. "Everyone! Naomi, Gabriel, Uriel, Zachariah, Raphael, Meg, Crowley, Michael!" He paused, panting. "You. God, and you know what? I didn't give a shit what Naomi thought. Or Zachariah, or Michael, or Raphael, they can all go to hell. But you? You were the one person I genuinely hated hearing it from. You were the one person, in a lifetime of hearing that I'm a screwup, that I didn't want to let down. And I managed to do it anyway."

They stood on opposite sides of the kitchen, staring each other down. The silence that stretched in those seconds was the loudest one either man had ever heard, filled with a thousand thoughts, wondering where they had gone wrong.

"I'm sorry." Said Dean. Soft as a whisper, heavy like a stone.

"What?" Asked Cas, scrunching up his face in disbelief.

"I'm sorry. I... I had no idea. I know what it feels like to let people down. I was a dick, okay? This is me apologizing."

>

"Thank you." Said Cas. "Really, thank you. I won't pretend that that fixes everything, for both our sakes... But thank you. It's a start."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. This was making him even more tired than he already was. "So when did you start staying here?"

"About two months ago."

Now he was even more confused. "What happened to the other three months?"

Cas was at war with himself. Tell the truth, or skirt around it?

He sighed. "You remember that I took another angel's grace, yes?"

"Yeah..." Said Dean cautiously.

"Well, there were complications. I was out of action for some time. When I was healed, I just... I needed to stop. I couldn't fight anymore." He sounded so broken up that it was almost painful to hear.

That was the part that Dean didn't quite get. Cas had been raised to fight his entire life, they both had, and all the sudden he just stopped? "Why?"

"Because I'm tired of being used, Dean." He said, a little louder. "Human or angel, I seem to attract people that have a purpose in mind for me."

"You didn't have to hide up here all alone! You could've called me, I would've come."

"And taken me to hunt again? I don't think so."

"You could've stayed at the bunker."

"Because that went so well last time."

That was it. "Why the fuck is it so hard for you to trust me, huh? What did I do to make you decide I wasn't worth it?"

"Because you're just like everyone else." He spat. "You tell me you're on my side, I help you as much as I can, and then when the going gets rough you turn everything on me!"

"Are we completely forgetting that you tried to kill me?!"

"You can't hold me responsible for that, alright!? You and I both know that that was all Naomi, not me. She messed with my head for months, maybe longer, I don't even know! It could have been my entire life!"

They had been stepping closer and closer together for some time, but now Dean could almost feel the heat of Cas's breath on his lips.

"Then how the fuck can I hold you responsible for anything!? How do you even know you're you, that the person I know isn't just a creation of hers, that you weren't born just as manipulative and cold as all of those other SOB's?"

Cas's mouth came crashing down on his, angry and hungry in its pursuit. He felt Cas's hand on his shoulder, pushing him up to the wall, and he fisted his hands in Cas's hair.

"Do I seem cold to you?" He growled when he broke away, low and husky, both of them gasping and panting.

Dean pulled Cas back to him, putting one hand on the small of his back and pressing their hips together. "Not really, no."

What Cas lacked in experience, he made up for in fervor. Dean could barely keep up as he explored with his tongue, biting on his lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. Before he knew it, Cas had taken him by the front of his shirt and was pushing him into the bedroom. When they got there, he pushed his jacket and pulled Cas towards the bed.

He was about to go for Cas's shirt when frantic hands stopped him. "Dean, wait."

"What is it?" He breathed.

"I... I..."

He quickly backtracked. "It's fine if you don't want to do this."

"No, I do, it's- ugh." He stopped searching for words that weren't there and pulled his shirt over his head.

>

The long sleeves had just barely hid them. In brighter light, he would've been able to see them on his neck and hands.

Cas was covered in scars. Burn scars, weaving patterns that looked disturbingly like feathers up his torso and down past the waist of his jeans.

"What happened?" Dean asked, ghosting his fingers over the intricate scars.

He took a ragged breath. "Grace is a powerful thing. Internalizing another angel's grace... It has consequences."

"You knew this was going to happen?" Whispered Dean in disbelief.

"This specifically? No, I didn't. I had my suspicions, but as you might say, I did what I had to." There was an undertone of bitterness and resignation to his voice.

"Cas." Whispered Dean, voice thick. He said his name with a sort of reverence, like it needed protecting.

"It's not your fault." Whispered Cas. "I made a stupid, rash decision, and I-"

Dean silenced him with his lips. "Don't put this on yourself either, alright? If you had known, you wouldn't have done it. There was no other way."

Cas kissed him hungrily, passionately, with desperate need. He tasted like musk and vodka sauce, and Dean couldn't get enough of it. He felt Cas's hands pushing his t shirt off, undoing his pants, removing the layers that separated them. At some point, Cas grabbed a bottle of body oil from the bathroom.

He put his lips where his hands had been, brushing them all over his angel's torso, over every scar. He heard a strangled sob come up out of Cas's throat.

"Sshhh, it's okay." He said as he felt Cas's hands tighten in his hair. He made his way down to where Cas's erection was twitching against his stomach, and ran his mouth down the length, producing another moan.

He poured oil into his hand and began to work his fingers in, one by one, stretching him open.

"I need you." Growled Cas, before he could even ask.

"Ready?"

"Yes!"

He pushed his length in, slowly at first, but he soon began to take an almost punishing pace. He held onto the headboard with one hand and took Cas's length in the other, stroking and thrusting in sync. Cas's hands were on his hips and he watched the other man's face as he got closer and closer, eyes fluttering open and closed.

When he did come, he saw him cry out in pleasure. He himself came seconds later.

He fell asleep on his angel's chest, sticky with sweat and come. He hadn't felt that good in a long time.


End file.
